


Perceieved Innocence

by For Fucks Sake Shirogane (Mellowcreep)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, Edo Period, M/M, Shiro's a samurai, flower arrangements, will add more when i post the rest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellowcreep/pseuds/For%20Fucks%20Sake%20Shirogane
Summary: Takashi wasn't someone stuck in his ways, but he firmly believed in the law he upheld, the honor that had been instilled at him from a young age. Until that foundation was shaken





	Perceieved Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* yeah so...I'm late to the exchange again and I'm sorry, Not only that but this isn't technically finished, You see when i started plotting this it morphed into a monstrous (pun intended) edo fantasy au and I couldn't make myself cut anything out.This is the first part of my Sheith Flower Exchange for Kaien, I'll have the rest out as soon as I can but please bear with me for I work full time and am dealing with my mental health, Also Keith's name is Katako because I needed a Japanese name for him so I played around with some kanji.

Their entire trek up the mountain was spent hoping that the snow would stop before they returned home. Surely it’d been too warm that day for anything to stick or for the snowfall to become significant, so it couldn’t go on through the night. At least that’s the hope that Takashi kept in his heart even as they reached the sarugami’s den with ice crunching beneath every step he and his captain took. 

Its attention was drawn to them the moment the two samurai arrived. Their attention was divided between the two tasks at hand; Ogasawara’s hand was poised at the hilt of his sword, his weapon half drawn in the space of a breath while Takashi mentally plotted the best way around the demon to get to his prisoner. She lay unconscious and blue in the face, but she appeared otherwise unharmed and gratefully the last thing on the beast’s mind.

With an ear piercing screech it lunged towards Ogasawara with teeth and claws at the ready. He was shoved backwards into a tree and nearly through it as he struggled to fend off the sarugami long enough to get a blow in, blade trembling between them as a makeshift shield. Instinct told him to whirl around and come to his captain’s defense, no matter how long he fought that empathetic drive never seemed to go away. And every time Takashi has to remind himself just how tenacious Ogasawara really is and that he has other matters to attend to.

His feet took him forward on auto-pilot and he jogged up to the limp body laid atop a pelt. He scooped her into his arms and tugged the pelt over her hurriedly before stumbling back towards the path they’d come from with her in tow. Her skin felt feverish, a welcome sign to contradict how lifeless she was in his arms. 

He scoped out a crop of secluded trees that seemed to be working as a good enough canopy to the ground below. Sure beat laying her out in the direct path of snow, and it would only be a few minutes. Takashi wrapped the girl fully in the animal pelt and laid her beneath the larger of the trees, pausing to check her breathing a moment longer before rising to his feet to the ring of metal echoing through the air. She’d be fine, Ogasawara might not.

Despite the snow crunching underfoot he was able to locate and approach the fight without being detected. The sarugami’s screams drowned out anything it could hear, and frankly anything else that could be heard. Blood poured from a wound on its shoulder and matted the demon’s fur in crimson but it never relented, each swing more frantic than the last. It was a wonder how Ogasawara was dodging most or _any_ blows, a testament to how skilled of a fighter he’d become over the years. And in a way, a challenge to Takashi to prove himself to be just as worthy of an ally.

Takashi watched them closely as he stalked closer with his hand hovering over his sword. His eyes flickered between them, watching each blow exchanged for the best opportunity to strike. Blood rushed in his ears and he inched ever closer, feeling his hand began to shake as it tensed on the hilt. Breathe, this was nearly routine by now; there was no time for rookie mistakes 

The sarugami let out another deafening cry as Ogasawara next swing caught it in the side, sent it staggering back a couple steps and—_now._ Takashi allowed himself another scant moment to collect himself with one long inhale, fist clenching on his sword for a brief moment before he drew his weapon. It had to be precise, right where the first wound was and not a centimeter off. With the way he felt, tense and fighting tremors of adrenaline, he momentarily doubted his ability to even hit his target.

It poised itself to lunge towards Ogasawara again, and all hesitations he’d had melted gave way to an eerie calm. Before the beast had the chance to surge forward he struck with a cry of his own. The blade swung down with a sharp ring of metal cutting through the air. The sarugami screeched in agony as his blade sank into its neck much further than the preceding wound, bringing gushes of fresh blood as it stumbled forwards and off of Takashi’s blade.

He raised his blade and readied himself to strike again when another blade whistled by and finished his pursuit for him. At once the sarugami’s screams came to an abrupt stop, and Takashi watched in mild horror as the demon’s head rolled across the snow trailing a sanguine path from its body into the trees beside them. The body collapsed on its side unceremoniously, and the ground was quickly and thoroughly bloodied with the demon’s remains.

Ogasawara was panting, eyes following the retreat of its head as he lowered his sword slowly and sheathed it again. Takashi held his defensive stance until he watched his captain relax; only then did he reluctantly let his arm drop to his side. The adrenaline was quick to taper off as fast as it’d come, and with it his hands returned to their shaky state.

“Nice work, Shirogane.” Takashi huffed out a weak chuckle as he slipped his sword back into its sheath finally, shoulders sagging. He looked around briefly, scoping the area for any other threats before taking off his helmet with a sigh.

“Me? I merely assisted, you’re the truly gifted warrior to stand off with that thing alone, captain.” As they spoke, the two trudged back towards the path. Takashi lead them to the grove of trees where he’d left the villager and watched as Ogasawara hefted the still unconscious woman over his shoulder like it was nothing. He could feel snow falling onto his head in steady flakes and he sighed, turning his attention to the pale clouds overhead. So much for the snow stopping, although now he welcomed the cold more if only to cool his overheating body.

“You saw how it had me pinned. If you weren’t here, I’m sure that this mission would’ve been all but impossible.” There was gratitude in his fatigued tone, and despite looking worse for wear Ogasawara was smiling beneath his helmet. It was a kind, encouraging smile that Takashi knew well, the one he’d grown to anticipate and love from his captain whenever he went beyond success, he’d impressed. It was enough to bring a smile to his own weary face, unable to retort in any way that would actually be intelligent.

Their journey back down the mountain felt worlds longer than their ascent. Neither of them tried to hide their exhaustion, there was no need to. Aside from the villager they were alone, free to compare their woes to the mountains as they made their way back into the city. It was a strangely intimate experience to hear his captain grumble and laugh freely about himself and their grievances, even if they walked mostly in silence taking turns carrying the woman. It was a reminder of how human Ogasawara was, how despite his strength and experience in the end he was just another samurai himself.

The clouds grew bright with sunrise as the two reached the front gates of the city. Takashi could tell his head wasn’t held as high as he’d like as they passed the guards, but by the looks of it they were on the same wavelength. They barely exchanged words as the pair shuffled through the gates, Takashi lagging behind with the villager in his arms. Ogasawara paused just beyond the gates and Takashi stumbled to a belated halt, barely flinching as the woman was taken from his arms and slung over his captain’s shoulder.

“You’ve had a long night, let me take it from here. Go ahead home and get some rest.” Part of him wanted to protest that Ogasawara was just as exhausted, but he knew better than to object to orders. Takashi gave him a firm nod and watched his captain turn towards the farmlands and disappear behind a small shop. All at once his demeanor changed, and Takashi gave up trying to fight the slump of his shoulders as he started down the main road into the city.

He appreciated being relieved of his duties almost as much as he did the quiet morning around him. Most of the citizens weren’t stirring yet, not with the cloudy sky and snow blanketing the city. His shoes carved a fresh path down the middle of the street, each step muffled by the fresh snow he trudged through. It was all serene, a calm that their bustling town didn’t usually see at this time of day. The sort of blissful, bitter silence that left him adrift in his thoughts as he ambled home.

The walk home never seemed longer than it did now, half conscious and deliriously navigating white washed streets. It was too easy for Takashi to lose himself entirely to the empty noise of his mind and become almost unaware of his surroundings—suddenly, he was grateful that Ogasawara wasn’t here, he didn’t care for whatever earful he’d get for being inattentive even now. 

He almost didn’t even notice as a few people began to populate the streets around him. A couple men passed him by with carts of wares, milling about between homes and the market he passed through. The streets began to fill with hushed chatter, and Takashi began to feel more and more out of place with every pair of eyes he passed by. A samurai marching through the street was nothing new, but one donning full armor with his head bowed was certainly a rare sight to see.

Just as rare as bright red carnations in the middle of February. The shock of color stood out like a sore thumb amidst the muted town lit by the budding sunrise, and it was enough to make even Takashi’s weary eyes double back in intrigue. It didn’t take much for his mind to switch destinations flippantly and direct his feet to follow the crimson spot.

The flowered villager came into view again in moments. It didn’t take much for him to pick out the one person with a huge carnation on their back, even with his brain running on autopilot. He kept his distance as he followed the hooded figure down a side street to a small shop. His eyes skimmed over the worn sign above the store that simply read “Tea” with a smirk as he stepped inside.

Inside the shop was just as simplistic as its sign. Takashi stepped in through the curtain over the entrance through the pleasant wall of warmth from the hearth smoldering in the middle of the room. It wasn’t a large space, but the lack of patrons gave it an almost eerily empty feeling. The only other sources of motion aside from himself were two villagers; the patron he’d followed in, who was digging through the basket he’d had wrapped in his arms, and an older gentleman who he could only assume was the owner.

“Good morning to you, sir.” The older man greeted Takashi with an energy he hadn’t expected. “I do apologize, we’ve only just opened for the day and don’t have any tea brewed quite yet. Take a seat wherever you’d like and I’ll be happy to serve you soon.”

The moment the man began to speak Takashi felt his cheeks burn in shame. Only then did it come to his attention that he was standing in the doorway of this tea shop without his wallet just staring at the boy kneeling at the table in the corner. He had pulled a vase and several bundles of cloth out and laid them across the table, one of which lay open with an array of stems and flowers atop it. Bright red berries drooped off a branch beside a handful of baby’s breath and a few shoots of something deep green that he didn’t immediately recognize. 

Takashi watched him, fascinated at his machinations until the shopkeeper cleared his throat as politely as he could. Right, don’t make the courteous man kick you out for loitering. It took another moment for him to remember how to make his stiff legs move forward, debating for only a moment before heading straight for the boy’s table. He didn’t look up when Takashi approached, absorbed in how he placed the pale sprigs of flowers inside the vase to entertain the samurai who kneeled beside him.

The room was almost silent save for the negligible sounds of motion made by the boy and shopkeeper as they worked. Takashi set his helmet down on the opposite end of the table from the villager and situated himself close to the hearth to stave off his remaining shivers as he warmed up. It felt wrong to speak so he decided to refrain, instead focusing on watching the boy work on his arrangement in silent curiosity. Flower arranging wasn’t something he would usually consider himself passionate about, but there was something about the care he put into what he was doing that left Takashi captivated the whole time.

“Can I help you, sir?” It wasn’t until the boy was finished, shifting the vase to the center of the table, that Takashi snapped out of his trance and realized how hard he’d been staring. Without a doubt he’d creeped this guy out, what the hell was he doing just _watching_ him anyway? Why did he even follow him here if he had no money to get himself anything to drink? Takashi swallowed, eyes jumping from the arrangement to the bored expression on the villager’s face while he racked his brain for a response.

“My...apologies. Your coat caught my eye, followed by your choice of arrangement and I...didn’t mean to let myself stare so long…” Like he was right now, taking in the sharp angles of the man’s face as he spoke. He pushed his shoulders back and held his head higher as if subtly trying to show himself off--it was entirely possible that he was making that part up, but that felt right to Takashi’s fatigued mind. At the last second, the villager turned his attention on the stack of fabric on the corner of the table.

“My coat?” The man chuckled lowly. He dragged the pile close, setting the now empty basket on the floor behind himself. “That’s not one I get often, but thank you. My mother is quite handy with dyes, isn’t she?” As he spoke, the villager spread the fabric--kimono, he recognized by the second folded garment--across the table as if taking stock of his inventory. Each robe looked ornate in their vibrant, often complex patterning, and Takashi wasn’t sure which one he wanted to take in the most.

“If these are all her works, then color me impressed. She’s quite the talented woman.” His attention was drawn to a kimono covered in the same striking carnations as the villager’s overcoat, only these robes weren’t meant for the dreary weather outside. They looked airy, comfortable in a way that would feel better once spring came. Takashi sighed through his nose, wistful for warmer times that couldn’t come soon enough. “I bet these would be very popular amongst patrons.”

“You’re on the right track, mister.” Maybe it was the quirk of a smile he wore but Takashi swore he could hear laughter edge into the man’s voice. “I bring them here to sell every few days for her. Today’s your lucky day.” _Some luck indeed._ The second sigh Takashi let out was less of admiration, more on the side of disappointed.

“That’s a tempting offer, but I’ll have to decline. I was on my way home when I’d spotted you, and I hadn’t brought my wallet out with me last night. Perhaps I’ll come back and take a look at what you have to offer another time.” He could feel the villager’s eyes on him while his own kept occupied on the floral kimono.

“Didn’t know samurai got to drink for free nowadays.” There was a bitterness to the man’s tone that he hadn’t expected. Takashi tried to laugh it off.

“I wish. No, I was on a rescue mission all night.” That made the villager’s eyebrows shoot up. He looked surprised, even a bit impressed. All at once the wonder left his hypnotic eyes, their shimmer replaced with darkness.

“So we’re having conflicts with other towns again...”

“Not that sort of rescue, there’s been an influx of unruly demons since the war began to diminish, so we’ve traded out bloody battles for dangerously unpredictable creatures.” Judging by the one cocked eyebrow he was given he was about as impressed by his conquests as he was with the prospect of a drunken samurai invading his space so early in the morning. 

The shopkeeper emerged from a side room with a teapot cradled on a tray alongside two cups. He set the tray down next to the villager, taking the time to set down a cup beside the seated pair and pour them both a cup. Takashi wasn’t given the chance to protest, as before he could open his mouth the other man held a hand up to silence him. Instead he gave the old man a polite nod and another lopsided smirk before he turned to disappear into the back yet again.

“I’m sorry but I’ve tol--”

“Yes I’m aware of what you said, have faith in my memory.” The man interjected, attention turned to the steaming cup in front of him. He cupped it in both hands carefully, shoulders trembling with a weak shiver as he curled further into his coat. “One cup of tea is no huge favor in comparison to keeping our town safe, it’s the least that I could do.”

His tone seemed to soften as the villager looked up at Takashi again. That little curve of his lips was a charming sight that he was growing reluctant to take his eyes off of.

“‘The least you could do’...I’d be happy with just your name. I’d feel bad taking nothing but your time with me when I go.” Takashi couldn’t tell if the flush of his skin had been there since they’d escaped the cold or if it was just the lighting, but the dusting of red that snuck up to the man’s ears highlighted his features nicely. He was silent for a moment, choosing to push the untouched teacup closer to their unpaying customer.

“I’m Katako, it’s my pleasure. Hopefully this won’t be the last time we meet.” Finally he accepted the cup with a smile of his own, bringing it to his lips and blowing on it before taking a sip.

“Takashi, and I’ll definitely come back if you’ll be here. I’d hate to never see you again.” He paused for another sip, studying the apprehensive purse of Katako’s lips while he did. “Besides, this is a homey shop with an assortment of talent in you alone. I’d be a fool if I didn’t take the opportunity to return more than once. I’m sure that your arrangements are even more stunning when you’ve more variety to work with.”

Now he was certain that Katako was blushing, his ears were impossibly redder as he became all too fixated on the tea he tended to. It was a strange thing to be proud of, but something about making his previously stoney companion thaw had Takashi’s chest swelling in victory. 

Takashi took another swig from his cup while he watched Katako fish a few loose pages out of his basket along with a brush and a small black jar. It took the smell of paint a moment to reach his nose through the tea but the acrid smell lingered in the air. His attention went to the blank paper just before Katako dipped his brush and dropped the tip on the top right corner of the page, dragging it diagonally across the page in one long stroke.

It didn’t take him longer than ten minutes to finish drinking his tea, but Takashi sat there for no less than forty-five minutes enthralled as Katako painted the arrangement in front of them. He kept telling himself that it was about time to go and rest but it seemed no promise of sleep would outdo the show he was given. Every gentle swoop of his hand was another petal, a fine detail he didn’t know could be so deftly translated to print. By the time he’d finished Katako noticed his tranced audience as well, chuckling to himself as he laid his brush down finally.

“I thought that you’d said you were out all night. Shouldn’t you be getting home, Takashi?” Takashi finally came to his senses again, blinking a few times. The painting was burned into his eyes into as an afterimage even after he turned his attention to the artist belatedly.

“You’re right. Must be so tired that I didn’t think to move.” His eyes jumped between the real baby’s breath, the painted ones, and Katako’s eyes. They stayed on the last one for another longer moment before he was shuffling to his feet, helmet gathered in his arms while he collected himself. Katako didn’t stand but he offered the samurai a warm smile.

“Stop by again some time if you have the chance.” He gave Takashi a little wave before turning his attention to the other blank sheets of paper he had to work on. He tried hard not to stumble over his feet as he made for the door and was grateful that Katako wasn’t watching him amble out onto the street like a drunkard.

His walk home passed him like a fog and he was back at the palace before he realized it. Takashi barely made himself known, quick to make a beeline for his room the moment he could. Ogasawara was no doubt already back and would have questions for him if he found the samurai wandering the halls. Takashi wasn’t sure how he’d take to the excuse of him meeting a beautiful artist and getting sidetracked.

He fell into bed with the painting still visible behind his eyelids and the memory of Katako’s smile to lull him to sleep.


End file.
